Major Crimes: Thanksgiving
by MyLadyLorna
Summary: Major Crimes: Sharon and Rusty spend their first Thanksgiving together and share a few honest moments.


**Story: **Major Crimes: Thanksgiving

**Characters:** Sharon and Rusty**  
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**Rating: **K for family moments

**Summary:** Sharon and Rusty spend their first Thanksgiving together along with a few honest moments.**  
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**Moi: **Not knowing the names of Sharon's kids dampens so many possible stories. Argh! Oh well. I guess I'll work with what I have. In this case, Sharon's kids are spending the holiday either on their own or with their father. Who knows, they could even have wives. A little info would be useful!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

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"Sharon, let go."

"Rusty, if you'd just let me. . ."

"I told you. I can handle it. Now stop worrying and let me have it."

Fighting the urge to close her eyes, Sharon exhaled a sigh of relief when the turkey finally made it out of the oven and onto the counter. Closing the oven door with his foot and tossing his oven mitts onto the counter, Rusty grinned at her, hands planted on his hips, and head tilted to one side.

"You didn't think I could do it, did you?"

"Honestly, no. But you proved me wrong; a habit you seem to have developed lately."

Rummaging through the fridge for a soft drink, Rusty popped the top on a Dr Pepper but didn't take a swig. He rolled the can between his palms a few times, gazing down into the can as if looking for answers to a question he didn't even want to ask. Finally, he set the can down on the counter, abandoned for the moment.

"When will you learn to trust me?"

Easing past him to the stovetop, Sharon peered into the pot of merrily bubbling sweet potatoes.

"Hand me a fork, please, Rusty."

He did so without comment and Sharon plunged the tines into the potatoes. They went in easily and so she slid the pot onto a cool burner. Without needing to be asked, Rusty fetched a bowl and a potato masher along with a mesh strainer. He set them beside her and his silence grew until it threatened to deafen her.

Was it a matter of trusting Rusty or not trusting him?

Sharon knew that wasn't it. Not by a long shot.

"Would you please put the potatoes in the bowl while I fetch the pineapple?"

Nodding, Rusty set himself to the task of straining while Sharon shuffled through items in the pantry, seeking that elusive can of crushed pineapple she knew she'd bought three months ago in preparation. Having her head in the pantry felt more comfortable than standing right beside him for this conversation.

"Rusty, it's not that I don't trust you."

"What is it then?"

A low-pitched yip of pain escaped him, and Sharon turned just in time to watch him jerk his hand away from the still steaming pot.

"I'm fine, just fine. No worries."

His grin was a little weak, but seeing it was enough and so she returned to her foraging.

"Here's the thing, Rusty. I do worry. I'm a mother and I never stopped worrying about my own boys, even when they went off to college and lives of their own. It's in almost every mother's genetic makeup to worry about their children. So when I don't necessarily want you lifting a twenty-pound bird out of the oven, it's because I don't want you to get burned, not because I don't trust you to get it to the counter."

Emerging triumphant with the can of pineapple, Sharon paused as Rusty stared at her from the stovetop, the strainer held loosely in one hand, dripping sweet potato juice all over the kitchen floor. The strainer easily slid out of his grip and into Sharon's palm. She plunked it back into the pot and then leaned down with a damp cloth to mop up the spill.

"What are you thinking? That I'm some sort of replacement for your kids?"

"Did I say that?"

"Because I wouldn't mind if I were a replacement!" His voice shook a little, and he had that sorrowful lost puppy dog look in his eyes again. "I know you get lonely, Sharon. But so do I. This life I have with you is the happiest I've been in years. I never thought we'd get along so well and I know you felt the same way. Don't act like you didn't have your doubts in the beginning, because I know you did. I can't really blame you; I was something of a jackass."

Sharon couldn't restrain the tiny smile.

"But, you see, I've been thinking a lot; about what I'm thankful for right now. That would be you. I'm so thankful for you, Sharon. And I want you to be thankful for me. I want you to trust me, to maybe even let me get my driver's license someday, knowing I'm not going to run off with your car. To let me make you dinner, to go grocery shopping for you, to maybe even bring a friend or two home from school for study time. I do have a couple of friends now, you know. I'd even like to teach you how to play chess. I want to be your son and I'm trying so hard to earn your trust."

Tears weren't something Sharon would ever let fall but they glittered in her eyes anyway. The damp cloth forgotten, she wrapped Rusty in a hug so tight he barely had any breathing room. Not that he minded. Perhaps, though, he did mind the mixture of sweet potatoes and water spreading across the back of his shirt. Not that he said anything.

Thanksgiving dinner was finished in record time. With the two of them working around each other and keeping up a lively banter of conversation, by the time the turkey had rested for half an hour, the sweet potatoes were finished, the regular potatoes mashed, the rolls warmed, and the stuffing removed from the bird. It was a heck of a lot of food but a little-used part of Sharon loved Thanksgiving leftovers so she always bought a bird big enough to accommodate at least a week's worth of turkey sandwiches.

Stretching her hand across the table, she joined it with Rusty's.

"Thank you, Heavenly Father, for the time we spend together today. Thank you for bringing Rusty to me when he needed me the most and when I needed him. Continue to bless us as we grow to know one another better. And thank you for this meal which you have provided. Amen."

"I thought you provided the food?"

"No sacrilege, please, Rusty."

He couldn't dip his head fast enough to hide an enormous grin before reaching for the sweet potatoes topped with golden marshmallows.

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Reviews are lovely . . .


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